


Kinder: Where the River Ends

by erasvita



Category: Those Who Went Missing
Genre: Gen, TWWM, esk, kinder fixes the shrine, mountain biome event, where the river ends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 06:51:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18005942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erasvita/pseuds/erasvita
Summary: Chapter 1: What Dwells Beneath the CanopyChapter 2: Where Clouds Fade Into SnowChapter 3 Prompt





	Kinder: Where the River Ends

As Kinder leaves the second shrine, the world holds its breath. The snow covered mountain seems impossibly still, as if time itself has paused and left the future in limbo. Nothing moves: there are no birds to take flight, no wind to stir the trees. 

And in this strange half-living world, the red faced esk and the wolf trailing behind her are the only things that move. The only sound is her footsteps, crunching too-loudly through the frozen snow.

The air grows progressively colder, a pallid embrace wrapping around the mountain. Mist curls at the trunks of the trees, materializing out of nowhere: with Kinder’s back turned, it forms a trail that snakes across the ground. Every wisp is an arm, every curl is the arm stretching: it inches closer, like a predator biding its time, a cat waiting for its moment to pounce. 

It follows her.

The wolf falls into place beside her, as quiet as the esk, as quiet as the snowy landscape. Together they make a new trail, forcing their way through snow and ice that grows progressively deeper with every step. Before they know it, the snow is up to Kinder’s chest, and the wolf is struggling to keep his head above the drifts. They’re surrounded by a field of white, a white so deep it seems determined to drown them in its embrace. Everything is foreign and so vastly different from Kinder’s own boundary; she finds herself thinking of home, wishing that whatever had brought her here would return her now. 

But it doesn’t; the landscape is unchanging.

“How much farther?” he whines. Kinder doesn’t have an answer; there’s no sense in stopping or turning back the way they had come. They can only move forward. 

The mist is still reaching, drawing nearer. It’s catching up to them, slowly but surely. The wind is stirring, pushing at the esk’s back, pushing the mist closer, shifting the very world. Running through it like an undercurrent is a pulse, thudding in rhythm like a heart, faint at first but growing stronger with every beat, creeping forward like the mist. 

When it catches up to them, Kinder can feel it beating from deep within her. She’s forgotten what it feels like to have a heartbeat, but it’s as if the mountain is reminding her. 

Without notice the wind kicks up into a frenzy, blowing snow and mist and ice over the traveling companions. Where once the world was silent, now it’s alive with the howling of the wind; the juxtaposition is sudden and jarring. The wolf growls and whines beside her, snapping at the wind - but his jaws grab only onto snow, and his mouth is quickly filled with ice. 

A piece of ice, small and oddly sharp, strikes the smooth fur of Kinder’s red face. She flinches and turns away, tucking her head into her chest instinctively. But then another buries itself into her flank, and another skims her back; suddenly more and more are catching in her mane and tail. Before they can come to terms with what’s happening they’ve been engulfed in a storm of wind and snow, and the sudden pin pricks of ice are raining down upon them with increasing urgency. 

More determined than ever, Kinder lowers her head to brace herself against the onslaught. “We must go on!” she says; but she isn’t sure if she’s telling the wolf, or herself. He only growls in response and says nothing more.

She isn’t aware of it at first, the way the color of the landscape is lightening and growing warmer. The pulse of the wind is stronger, almost constant; slowly, the mountains are turning from walls of white to rolling hills of tan. The storm is blinding and she doesn’t see, she doesn’t notice, not until it’s almost complete. The temperature rises so gradually that she easily overlooks that, too, focused only on a refusal to not be swept off her own feet by the wind. 

But the storm is insistent: it rises up around her, obscuring her vision and limiting her sight to only a few feet. The pellets spin in a circle around her that grows tighter and tighter, until they become a blur of impossibly-fast particles that lash at her face and eyes.

And only then does she realize the color isn’t quite right, and that when they strike her she feels warm instead of cold. Only then does the realize the snow that she was trudging through is gone, and she’s standing ankle-deep in hot earth, and that it’s sand, not snow, that attacks her.

She can feel the wolf’s presence beside her, but she can’t see him. Kinder stumbles to a stop, flinging her head up and down, side to side, back and forth, trying to rid herself of the flying sand - but it persists. Panic is beginning to rise and churn like a wave inside of her, manifesting through her nature features: the strings of succulent leaves explode with new growth. The plants turn her mane and tail into a quivering green mass that writhes in the wind around her.

Until, suddenly, it stops.

The sand hangs in the air as if frozen in time. A second passes, then another, and another; until they fall one by one to the ground, as if in slow motion. Kinder’s panic deflates, and one by one the string of nickels’ leaves recede back to how they were before.

The wolf growls beside her; but for a long moment, she doesn’t move, and doesn’t speak. The sun is beating down upon them, its heat suffocating, although in a way that was entirely different than in the jungle. It had been humid there, the air heavy and warm; here it was a dry heat, but hotter than Kinder had ever known.

 _No_ , something whispers inside of her. _Fire burns hotter._

She shakes her head, as if trying to shake the feeling of dread out of her heart. It only grows heavier, a sinking feeling deep in her chest that she can’t ignore. 

The wolf is the first to move, slowly investigating the area around them. This time, they’ve been brought to a land of sand and heat, mountains in the distance rising like sharpened teeth that bite the sky. And just like the last world, the one of snow and cold, this one is frightening devoid of any signs of life: nothing moves, nothing makes a sound, nothing dares to breathe. Even the pulse from before is gone, silence greeting Kinder’s ears and soul.

All she’s left with is the wolf and the sun. 

When the wolf begins to walk she follows him, her eyes trained on his dark form as he skulked along ahead of her. The heat is sweltering; the horizon seems to shiver and turn mirror-like, flickering in and out of focus. For a moment it looks like water, with rippling waves that churn and thrash; Kinder blinks and the water turns to snow that twinkles and glitters dazzlingly; but then it turns back to the sand of the desert, burning brightly beneath the sun.

Kinder squints, shifting her focus to the mirage. 

It continues to flicker; colors transitioning from tan to orange, orange to white, white to red, back and forth and over and over. The colors start to bleed into one another, shifting in seconds; and then they start reaching into the sky, sending up plumes that waver and vanish.

Kinder stops in her tracks, unblinking. The plumes on the horizon are taking shape into tendrils of flame that claw hungrily at the sky. They grow bigger as the esk watches, drawing nearer at a rapid pace. For a long moment she is frozen in place, unable to move, unable to look away. 

A tremor runs down her spine; a heartbeat later, she can’t contain herself anymore. 

She takes off at full speed, ignoring the sun and the heat. She can’t run fast enough; each step feels like an eternity, every meter is like a mile. But it seems the harder she tries, the harder it becomes to continue; the ground is becoming like quicksand, forming vices around her legs. It pulls at her, adding the weight of the entire desert to her limbs. Kinder growls and kicks, twisting her head to glower angrily at the sand. It turns to ash beneath the intensity of her stare, slipping away like dust. And she’s moving again.

But when she turns back to face the flames, they’ve vanished; a wisp of smoke still trails lonesomely into the sky, quickly dissipating. 

She can see the wolf prowling at the edges of her vision, but she pays him little attention. Her gaze is scanning the distance, searching intently for the fire; but her impatient eyes see only sand and sun and shadows. 

Movement flickers at the corner of her vision; the wolf circling her. She takes a step forward in uncertainty, when suddenly a growl comes from her right. 

But when she turns to look, it’s not the wolf she sees, but a lamb: it’s wool is still fuzzy with baby-wool, his twin horns just nubs barely visible on his brow. 

But his sides are darkened with soot, and the skin of his face is blackened and peeling. 

Kinder stumbles back in revulsion and surprise. More movement catches her attention, and she turns her head to see a second lamb, older than the first, but equally afflicted: as she looks, a spark catches flame in the ewe’s wool. Instants later, she is engulfed.

Without stopping to think, Kinder shies and sprints away. 

She doesn’t know where she’s going; she only knows that the bleats of burning sheep are behind her now, growing fainter with every step she takes. 

But as she runs, shadows follow her; they nip at her heels, urging her on. She strikes out at them with her feet, but is met only with insubstantial air. With desperation setting in, she continues to run. 

A flash of fire to her left startles her, flames materializing out of thin air. She can feel the heat of it singing her cheeks, can see the smoke curling like a hand whose fingers twist into fists around her hair. She turns away, twisting free from the smoldering grasp, and sprints away. The shadows return to surround her on three sides; the only way left to go is forward. Ahead of her the ground begins to slope gradually down, but Kinder hardly notices the walls of red sand that rise like jagged teeth around her.

It’s as if she’s running into the open mouth of a waiting monster, ready to eat her whole, and she doesn’t even know it.

The sand turns to grass suddenly beneath her feet; but the grass is on fire. It’s hot, too hot; burning her feet with every step she takes. Fear, stronger than any she’s felt in a long while, grips tightly at her chest. She runs in leaps and bounds, minimizing the time she spends on the ground. The blades of grass wither away into smoke, burning up into ashes that rise chokingly into the air with every step.

She hears another growl to her left, but she doesn’t need to look to know that it’s not a wolf chasing her. She runs faster, but the ram is catching up to her despite her efforts. He lowers his head, his great curling horns creeping closer, and closer, ready to barrel into her with all his force -

\- Kinder twists to the side just in time, and the ram runs harmlessly past her. Steps later he vanishes in a cloud of ashes and smoke.

The smoke whips and turns, racing towards her. This time the esk isn’t fast enough, and it consumes her in a cloud of darkness. But a growl from behind her tells Kinder that she can’t stop now; even blind, she continues to run. The ground is turning stony underfoot, and occasionally a strong wind or a nip of shadowy teeth alters her direction, ever so slightly. She feels like a sheep again, being herded by dogs, hounded by wolves…

And burned alive by a fire she can’t control. 

Slowly the wisps of smoke begin to clear, but the darkness doesn’t abate. She’s running along the bottom of a deep canyon now, deep shadows cast across its floor. As the smoke clears, Kinder sees a figure up ahead, its back turned to her. 

She slows down, quivering with suspicion and fear.

The lamb turns its head, looking at her over its shoulder. Its wool is white and glossy, but as Kinder watches it turns black, blacker than soot, blacker than the smoke and shadows that dogged her steps. The wool falls from its body, flesh turning to water that runs down its slender legs, until all that’s left is a skeleton that grins at her. Turning its head back around, the lamb walks forward on knobbly legs, and Kinder has no choice but to follow.

The undead lamb leads her around a corner, where yet another shrine is waiting. This time the statue is of a woman, with long hair that flows past her shoulders. But as Kinder draws closer, she can see the tears painting into her cheeks; living water is flowing from her eyes, collecting in the small bowl carved into her clasped hands. But the bowl is broken, with large pieces missing; the water pools briefly, but eventually slips from between its cracks.

The lamb walks behind the shrine and disappears, leaving Kinder alone with the statue.

But she recognizes that face, with its lines that crease the corners of her mouth and along her brow. It’s a kind face, the first one the esk saw when she was born, beside her mother’s.

She doesn’t know if it’s another illusion, or some kind of joke the desert is playing on her. Kinder collapses at the statue’s feet and shudders as the last of the smoke disappears.

Footsteps come from behind her, but she no longer has the energy to look. This time, at least, the presence that settles beside her is familiar. 

“What will you do this time?” he asks her, but she has no answer. 

For a moment they’re silent, with Kinder laying at the base of the shrine, and the wolf standing overtop of her. Only the dripping of the woman’s tears, and the hissing of the shrine’s broken token fill the air.

The world is holding its breath once more, waiting for her to move.

“Look at her,” the wolf prompts.

With a sigh, Kinder lifts her head. Every movement is a struggle, but she rises to a sitting position with trembling legs, and forces herself to look at the statue. Memories hover at the edges of her vision, smoke that threatens to overwhelm her once more; but this time, it’s kept at bay. 

For a long, unsteady moment, she hesitates. 

A change is slowly coming over the esk. It starts with her fur, gradually turning from black to white, like the bones of the lamb that had led her here. It’s as if the color - and the energy - is being bleached out of her bit by bit.

But smoke is curling in her mane and tail, and sparks are flashing in the corners of her markings. 

Her eyes begin to glow, fire flickering in their golden depths. The flames are dancing, beating in rhythm to a pulse that starts deep in her chest. 

A little bit at the time, the smoke shifting around her ignites into flame. But this time, the fire is coming from within her, and it does not burn. It extends from her, and its heat evaporates the statue’s tears, drying up the cracked bowl of water that she holds. 

Kinder crawls forward, reaching for the broken bowl. 

She isn’t sure where to begin, or even what to do; but her fire does. It reaches with smoky hands for the shattered pieces, lifting them up and knitting them together, making them whole.

And as the token is healed, it seems to vibrate with newfound energy, coming to life at Kinder’s deed. It cries out suddenly, but its tone is one of thankfulness: it echoes the esk’s actions, pouring energy into Kinder the same way she poured the last of her energy into it. Her travel-weary spirit is rejuvenated, like pieces of a puzzle sliding into place.

All around the statue, the air seems suddenly crisper, and cleaner, as the last of the smoke fades away. No longer do the shadows seem quite so ominous as they had before, but the cool shade they provide is welcoming. Even the plants seem to perk up, gaining color and new life. Their buds unfurl into petals, blossoms that fill the air with a sweet fragrance.

This time, the wolf doesn’t need to ask her how she feels. 

He already knows.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Final word count: 2821**  
>  **AP Breakdown**  
>  Base Score: 56 AP (Writing: 2821 words)  
> +2 AP (Large Familiar / Swarm: 2 AP * 1)  
> +5 AP (Elemental: 5 AP * 1)  
> +10 AP (Other Esk Bonus: 10 AP * 1)  
> +24 AP (Storyteller Bonus: 8 AP * 3)  
> +25 AP (Event Bonus) (+15 shattered peaks, +5 biome, +5 wordcount challenge)  
>  _Total AP per submission: 122_
> 
>  **GP Breakdown**  
>  Base Score: 28 GP (Writing: 2821 words)  
> +2 GP (Large Familiar / Swarm: 2 GP * 1)  
> +5 GP (Elemental: 5 GP * 1)  
> +18 GP (Storyteller Bonus: 6 GP * 3)  
> +12 GP (Event Bonus) (+8 shattered peaks, +2 biome, +2 wordcount challenge)  
>  _Total GP per submission: 65_
> 
>  
> 
> Commissioned by [Remaryn](https://remaryn.wixsite.com/twwm)


End file.
